“What is it? Can’t you tell me here?”
“Yes, but ... I was thinking about that man who spilled the champagne. Of course, he was an awful brute, but what heaps of money he must have. What a nuisance money is! It’s so sordid and yet one’s just got to have it.”
He knew what was coming.
“I say, you’re the best pal I’ve got here. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m in awful difficulties. Debts all round. Horrid people keep pressing me to pay their wretched bills. Oh, I’m only a lonely, unprotected woman....”
Here Mrs. Belmire began to cry.
“Can’t you lend me ten thousand francs, dear boy?”
“No.”
He was surprised at the explosive vehemence of his tone. The lady was even more surprised. Her tears ceased suddenly. With a kind of pained dignity she drew herself up.
“Good-night,” she said icily and then turning sharply, left him alone with the sea and the stars.